Puppy Love
by karly05
Summary: 15-year-old Ferb gets a visit from Candace's fiance, Ambrose Petersen, who has a new sidekick. If you don't know about Candace and Ambrose, you should read "Christmas Story" and "Unplanned" first.


**A/N – If you've read "Christmas Song" and "Unplanned," you know about Candace and Ambrose. If you haven't read those – well, you really should before you read this one. There's also a little Phinabella reference back to "The Other Kiss." Characters belong to Povenmire and Marsh, except for Ambrose, who is my fault.**

Puppy Love

The Tri-State Area had been unseasonably warm for early December. There were some preliminary rumblings of concern that Danville might miss out on its usual white Christmas this year, but Ferb Fletcher knew it was much too soon to fret about that, and he was content to enjoy the crisp weather of a lingering autumn. He had the backyard tree to himself this afternoon. Phineas had wandered off somewhere with Isabella – this had been happening with increasing frequency ever since their not-quite-first-kiss a few months ago – and Ferb was enjoying the solitude with a new book. He was just nearing the end of a chapter when the gate opened.

Ferb didn't look up at first, presuming it was only Phineas coming home, but he was surprised when, instead of his brother's cheerful, "Hey, Ferb, I'm back, what did I miss?" he heard the sharp, yip-yapping bark of a dog. In that way impressions have of flashing through your head in a nanosecond, he thought, _Oh, Isabella's brought Pinky – no, that's not Pinky's bark, what is that?_ By this point, he was closing the book over his finger to hold his place and his eyes were seeking out the source of the sound, while a genial male voice said, "It's okay, Trix, that's just Ferb."

_Oh, lovely, just the chap I wanted to see today._ Ambrose Petersen crouched in the dry grass just inside the fence. At his feet, a small dog the general size and configuration of a dust mop fired off another yap or two in Ferb's direction and bounced itself back against the ankle of Candace's boyfriend. _Fiance_, Ferb forced the correct term into his mind. Ambrose ran a reassuring hand over the agitated pup, continuing a fond patter of "You're all right, it's all right, that's just Ferb." Acknowledging the green-haired lad under the tree with a wave of his hand, he rose to shut the gate. The dog kept a watchful eye on Ferb, furry little legs braced to propel itself back to a safe distance at the first sign of danger. Ambrose held the end of a lead and once the fence was secure he walked purposefully toward the tree. He looked down at the dog as he passed it, patting his thigh and coaxing, "Come on, Trixie." Trixie dug in her paws and barked again, glancing up at Ambrose in appeal. He clearly anticipated this reaction, as he crouched to the dog's level and spoke to it in a low, comforting tone, the words "Okay," and "Just Ferb" audible again.

As man and dog resumed their advance toward him, Ferb got a better look at Trixie. She was mostly black, her white chest and forepaws standing out in sharp contrast. Her coat was neither short nor long, but in that awkward stage that looked as if she'd had a recent shearing and was trying to grow it out again. Twice as she crossed the lawn, her left front leg unexpectedly slipped or folded under her, propelling her face first into the grass, but both times she bounced right back up with a snort and a toss of her head and continued on her way.

Ferb had already replaced his finger between the pages with a proper bookmark and reluctantly set aside his reading material. Now, as his visitors came within easy earshot, he made the astute observation: "You've got a dog."

"Temporarily." Ambrose sat down at a short distance from him, playing out the lead to allow the dog to evaluate this stranger at her own pace. "I'm fostering for the Tri-State Humane Society. Whatcha reading?" he quizzed, with a glance at the lavender-covered library book.

Ferb didn't answer. The cover of the book was in plain sight, Ambrose was not illiterate, and it was all just small-talk, anyway.

"'Manners for Monsters,'" the interloper, as predicted, answered his own question with one look at the volume. "No 'War and Peace' today?" he ribbed Ferb with a faint chuckle.

Ferb ignored this jape at his reading habits. He had never actually read "War and Peace" and had no immediate plans to do so, although Ambrose had seen him in the company of "Little Dorrit" and probably didn't know the difference. Instead, he quietly observed the dog, who was cautiously sniffing the air around his sneakers.

"What's it about?" Ambrose made another attempt at chit-chat. "'Manners for Monsters,'" he clarified.

Surrendering to the inquisition, Ferb replied, "It's a modern neo-alt-Victorian fusion of Jane Austen and Mary Shelley. It's quite engaging. It's a favorite of a friend of mine," he added before stopping himself. Tempting as it was to seize the chance to talk about Vanessa, she wasn't a topic he particularly cared to share with this fellow. Trixie had snuffled her way around to his knees, and Ferb let one hand slide down to the grass, leaving it there palm up as a casual invitation. The dog looked up at this gesture, assuming that braced-to-flee posture again as she mulled over another bark at him. This was when he noticed that her jaw was just slightly askew, exposing her lower right canine tooth and a couple of tiny incisors. It gave her a pugnacious look that reminded him of Buford. He regarded the little dog with the trace of a smile, and Trixie replied with a soft _rrrrruff!_ that translated to _Well, I guess you're okay, but don't try any funny stuff!_

As she made a feint at sniffing Ferb's hand, Ambrose explained, in a subdued tone, "You saw the story we did on the puppy mill. That's where she came from." The young man was a reporter for the _Daily Danville_, the local newspaper, and Candace had told the family about his involvement in the front page expose. Even now, there was a subtle catch in his voice when he said, "She's one of the lucky ones."

Ferb nodded in understanding as Trixie snuffled against his hand and allowed his fingers to gently scratch her neck. "Trixie?" he queried, confirming the name.

"That's what I'm calling her." Ambrose smiled at the pup. "The shelter named her 'Tuxedo,' because of her coloring, but that's not a name. Is it, Trix?" he spoke to her squishily when she looked at him. "No, not for a sweet little girl."

"What sort of dog is she?"

"Shih Tzu Poodle mix. Shih-Poo, they call it."

"That's unfortunate," Ferb noted drily. "The name," he clarified when Ambrose appeared perplexed.

"Hey, it could be worse," he grinned, looking a bit embarrassed as he caught on. "Maybe they should call it a Tzu-Poo. Or a Tzudle. Trixie the Tzudle," he considered. "That's not so bad."

Trixie had snuggled herself against Ferb's thigh as he stroked her, and now made a move to clamber into his lap. As she did so, that left front leg gave way again and she tumbled sideways onto the grass before righting herself with a shake. "Is there something wrong with her leg?" Ferb asked.

"It's a neurological thing, the vet says. It doesn't hurt her. And it doesn't slow her down," he chuckled as Trixie made another attempt to launch herself at Ferb and this time reached her target. "She really likes you, kidd-uh—_Ferb_."

Ferb's brow contracted involuntarily as Ambrose nearly called him by the hated epithet _kiddo_, but he swiftly resumed his placid expression. At least the fellow had stopped himself. Apparently, he could be trained.

He sensed that Ambrose had not missed the frown, as the man pressed on a bit too genially, "She's usually a lot more cautious about warming up to people, but you've really got a way with her."

Ferb was rubbing the little dog's back when it occurred to him that Ambrose might have an ulterior motive. With a firm look, he said, "You do realize we already have a pet."

"Yeah, the platypus," Ambrose nodded, not seeming to get the point. With a laugh, he added, "You know, I've been dating your sister for over a year, and I don't think I've seen him more than once or twice. Where is he?" Ambrose looked around the yard.

Ferb gave a shrug and stated, "We're not adopting a dog."

A look of alarm lit Ambrose's face at this. "Trixie's not for adoption. Well," he conceded, "she will be, eventually. I mean, that's the plan. But she's not ready for that yet." He held out his hands in appeal to the dog, who climbed over Ferb's leg to return to him. "No," Ambrose crooned to her as she let him scoop her into his arms. "No, you're not." Trixie licked Ambrose's chin, and he rubbed noses with her.

"Does Candace know about you two?" Ferb cracked.

Ambrose nodded in reply, ruffling the dog's coat. "Yeah. Lucky for me, she's very understanding. Ferb." His attention was still on the dog as he spoke. "I know you and I got off on the wrong foot with each other. And maybe you're not crazy about having me as a brother-in-law. Or happy about why we're getting married so soon." This was as close as he had come to mentioning the impending baby. "But you're a good ki- uh – fine young man," he clumsily amended this before Ferb could frown again. "Candace puts a lot of stock in your opinions. And in my book," he flashed an admiring grin, "what Candace says, goes."

He paused here, meeting Ferb's eye in anticipation of a response to this, but the green-haired teen's only outward reaction was a blink. Ferb shifted his gaze to the dog, who had settled in her master's lap and was lazily gnawing at the hem of his corduroy slacks. _What do you expect me to say?_ thought Ferb. _Oh, no problem, bro, welcome to the family._ Of course, that's what Phineas would have done. But Phineas was quick to embrace people; he had started calling Ferb's father "Dad" even before the actual wedding. The world was his family, and there was always room for one more. At the age of four, Ferb had been so grateful for his new brother's generosity of spirit. Now, he felt a bit sorry that more of Phineas's character hadn't rubbed off on him.

They had both been quiet for a couple of minutes when Ambrose spoke up again. "Look, I know you and I may never be palsy-walsy. And that's okay," he assured. "But we both love Candace. And I'd really like to see us bury the hatchet for her sake."

_Bury the hatchet?_ The words surprised Ferb. Ambrose actually thought they had a hatchet to bury? Just because Ferb wasn't the demonstrative sort, wasn't given to effusive declarations of feeling, Ambrose thought there was a hatchet. _Well, you haven't exactly encouraged him to think otherwise,_ Ferb admitted to himself. And yes, he wasn't thrilled about this chap getting his sister pregnant, or marrying her. But Candace was an adult who could make her own choices and take care of herself without her little brother's input. And Ambrose, from the start, had always been friendly toward him, had tried to get along, however awkwardly. Ferb was reminded of Candace's comment that Ambrose found him intimidating, and while this still seemed ridiculous to him, perhaps it wasn't entirely off the mark.

Trixie was now snoozing contentedly, draped over Ambrose's knee with his hand resting gently on her back. If the man had earned the trust of this little dog, who had no reason to trust anyone, perhaps it was worth giving him a chance. Ferb even pushed a bit of encouraging warmth into his voice when he answered.

"Yeah, okay, I'm down with that."

THE END

**A/N – I'm trying to deal with the Candace/Ambrose story because I really need to get at least some of it out there before I get Ferb & Vanessa married off. And Canderemy fans, don't panic. As 20-years-in-the-future Candace tells her younger self, "Just relax. Everything works out."**

**In "Doonkelberry Imperative," we see Vanessa with a library book. I can't tell you how many times I've freeze-framed that bit, trying to make out a title. I'm sure I'm completely off the mark, but it looks to me like "Manners for..." something. The last word is definitely not Monsters, but "Manners for Monsters" sounded like a book Vanessa might like.**

**Oh, and yeah, Ferb's last line was lifted from "Excaliferb!"**


End file.
